


Home Isn't a Place

by MagpieMushroom



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Din and Grogu join Luke, Din doesn't remove his helmet (yet), Found Family, Luke Skywalker is badass but also a big gay dork, M/M, POV Luke Skywalker, Post-Season 2, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMushroom/pseuds/MagpieMushroom
Summary: “You’ll be safe, now,” the Mandalorian’s voice was audibly shaking and Luke realized in that moment that there was absolutely no way in Hell he was going to tear the two apart. Damn the Old Ways; these two had found something special in one another. They’d found family and Luke was not about to take that away from them. Not after all the losing and finding that he himself had done. The X-wing was going to be cramped and...Leia was going to kill him.But Luke just smiled as the Wise Jedi Master air slipped away to reveal some of his boyish charm.“What, his dad isn’t coming too?”
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 118
Kudos: 1059
Collections: WIPs I’ll Wait Patiently For





	1. The Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Edited it to fix some typos and tense issues! Sorry for that; this work isn't betaed so I'm flying solo with the editing.

Luke stood before wrecked metal doors and tried to compose himself for what was beyond. He hadn’t been quite sure, to be honest. Oh, he had known  _ who _ would be there – and hadn’t that been quite a shock, the tiny echo of his master reaching out to him through the Force – but he had no idea how the Child ended up on an Imperial cruiser. During their brief connection he saw flashes of Coruscant, fear, isolation, sleep, and then a bright light, the bright helmet of a Mandalorian, and then simply  _ home _ . But here in this moment he felt no fear from the Child. He sensed that those on the other side of the door were friendly; the dark troopers were trying to break into the bridge after all. 

Well, they were likely friendly to the Child, not necessarily to him.

Then again, he thought as the battered doors slid open, they  _ were _ letting him in. Maybe they knew who he was? Taking a shallow breath, he stepped through the exhaust from the ruined machinery.

...And found an array of weapons trained on his skull. And not one but  _ three _ Mandalorians. Great.

He  _ tried  _ not to appear intimidating, turning off his lightsaber with a soft  _ hush _ , but there wasn’t much he could do about the decimated platoon of killer droids lying in a smoking heap behind him.

Maybe that would endear him to them? Thanks for slicing through the scary robots like butter, Mr. Jedi?

They didn’t lower their weapons.

But that might not matter, he thought as his gaze fell on the person closest, who clearly  _ wasn’t _ hostile, the only one without weapons drawn. What struck him first wasn’t the man’s armor or his weapons, the same ones he caught flashes of in Grogu’s memory. The Mandalorian certainly cut a striking figure – tall and broad, wearing the brightest beskar Luke had ever seen – but above all that was the sheer emotion rolling off of him in waves. A tangled mess of  _ anxiety _ and  _ protect _ and  _ sorrow _ and  _ conflict _ and  _ love _ , all directed at the bundle held to his chest like a treasure.

A bundle of tan cloth and green skin and the biggest ears Luke had ever seen on a being that small. The Child simply gazed up at the Mandalorian, his own emotions beating back in tandem:  _ love _ ,  _ protect _ ,  _ adoration _ ,  _ family _ ,  **_home_ ** .

He’d gotten glimpses of the Child’s life when they connected, but it was so brief. This...this was more complicated than Luke anticipated.

“Grogu,” he said without thinking, and the Child twisted in the Mandalorian’s arms to look at him. His large eyes widened and he cooed, tiny claws stretching out towards Luke and his heart  _ melted _ . He was the spitting image of Master Yoda. 

Just a lot,  _ lot _ cuter.

The name, however, made the Mandalorian halt, just as he started to move towards Luke. Had he made a grave mistake? Overstepped some unknown boundary? But then the man stepped forward with the Child instead of pulling out his blaster like Luke was preparing for.

The Mandalorian came to stop a few feet away, face unreadable behind his helm, but his voice so  _ earnest _ as he asked, “Are you a Jedi?” Luke was startled by how soft the deep rumble was, how exposed the man’s emotions were despite all the physical barriers between them.

“Yes,” he replied simply, feeling a sudden obligation to put the stranger at ease, “My name is Luke Skywalker.”

And with that admission a ripple moved through the room, one that Luke had come to expect in his wake.

But this Mandalorian didn’t react. In fact there was no recognition in his voice when he immediately moved on to ask, “Will you teach him?”

Luke was off kilter. Not by the question; of course he would teach him, that’s why he was  _ there _ . It was just...people didn’t usually just not know who he was. Who  _ was _ this guy?

He tried to steady himself. Focus on the Child, that’s what he was there for, right?

He pushed on gently, “His connection to the Force is very strong. If he is to be safe he needs to learn to wield it. I can help.”

The Mandalorian’s grip on the Child tightened slightly, pressing him closer to his chest plate as if the metal could envelope them both. The man took a shuddering breath, the sound quietly tearing through his throat. It was relief and yet there was still so much pain there.

Was he crying? Tears were not what he expected from a Mandalorian but then again, he hadn’t expected  _ any  _ of this from Mandalorians. From this Mandalorian.

The man held the Child up slightly so that he could look down into his face, trust written plain as day in the Child’s large, dark eyes. His gloved hand trembled slightly as he stroked the side of one of those big ears.

“Well, this is it, kid,” the man said so tenderly that Luke felt like an intruder. He turned to the side carefully, averting his gaze and honestly wishing he could close his ears to this conversation as well, as curious as he was.

“You need to go with him,” the Mandalorian was saying imploringly, “He’s your kind. You belong with him.” Most people wouldn’t speak to a nonverbal child this way, Luke thought, but then again, he had a feeling that this man wasn’t like  _ most people _ . The Child clearly meant more to him than some bounty, more than Luke anticipated. 

“You’ll be safe, now,” the Mandalorian’s voice was audibly shaking and Luke realized in that moment that there was absolutely no way in _Hell_ he was going to tear the two apart. Damn the Old Ways; these two had found something special in one another. They’d found _family_ and Luke was not about to take that away from them. Not after all the losing and finding that he himself had done. The X-wing was going to be cramped and...Leia was going to kill him. But as he turned back, seeing the Child cradling the Mandalorian’s helmet with his own tiny hands and feeling _family,_ **_clan_** from the both of them-

He knew that this was the right thing.

Luke smiled gently at the man, dipping his head slightly to catch his gaze.

It was funny how his sense of the other’s emotions seems to give the cold beskar so much character. The glint of the helmet as he cocked his head filled with so much confusion and wariness even as a grin split Luke’s face, the Wise Jedi Master air slipping away to reveal some of that boyish charm.

“What, his dad isn’t coming too?”


	2. The Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with an old enemy sends the trio on a slight detour.

Lights blinked on the control panels and the engine whirred to life as Luke prepared the ship for take-off. 

The Mandalorian was crammed into the emergency passenger seat just behind him, legs spread to make room for the pilot. He had yet to remove his helmet, which initially struck Luke as odd, but perhaps the other man didn’t feel safe enough to let his guard down yet.

Either way, the helmet couldn’t be making the ride any  _ more _ comfortable, Luke thought wryly, glancing at the beskar greaves almost touching his own legs. The Mandolorian had his feet jammed up against the bulkhead in an effort to not make contact. It couldn’t be comfortable, but Luke understood as he himself found the close quarters a bit tense with a stranger.

Despite being a naturally social person, Luke had mostly been on his own in the years since the Empire’s defeat. He’d spent his time traveling the Galaxy in search of lost Jedi artifacts, wanting to widen his basis of knowledge before he rebuilt the Order. 

The truth was that his masters had taught him very little about the Jedi in the short time he’d had with them before their deaths. He wished that they were still here, available to teach him and answer his questions whenever he needed. Unfortunately, whatever whims brought their spirits before him from time to time would not have it so. 

Luckily, he’d gathered a respectable collection of texts and trinkets throughout his travels, and Leia often sent items his way when the Republic uncovered one in an Imperial cache.

It had been hard at first, being alone, but he’d almost gotten used to it. Besides, he’d had R2 to keep him company.

“All systems ready,” he called up to the droid mounted on his ship. R2 beeped in response, and began charting the course to Pelaphim V.

On the way back to the X-wing Luke had explained where they were headed. The long uninhabited forest moon was located practically on the other side of the Outer Rim. He’d found the place while hunting down a single Jedi text, but had come across an entire  _ library _ when he got there. 

In fact, it was clear that some long dead Jedi had made a home there in the densely forested mountains. The few stone buildings were modest and in shambles – having clearly been abandoned decades, if not centuries ago – but the energy there was just so... _ right _ . He’d found himself going back there, time and time again, to the stone cottage and what he guessed had once been a meditation garden. He’d cleaned the place up a little at a time, adding his own finds to the existing collection of artifacts. The grounds were still a mess, as he’d spent little time there in all, but it was a start.

Regardless, he was  _ excited _ to share the space with someone else, to share the wealth of knowledge he’d gained in recent years. He was excited to have a  _ student _ , to revive the Order as his masters had hoped he would.

He just hoped they didn’t mind the cobwebs.

The back of his neck tingled, feeling eyes on him as he flicked a switch, the magnetic docking clamps releasing. He had honestly considered that his students’ family members might become part of life in the new Order. 

His own family (both found and by blood) was very, very important to him, and he believed that his relationships with them were a source of great strength and stability. 

As he’d researched the Jedi, learning about the way in which they isolated children from their families, how they isolated  _ themselves _ from connections...he couldn’t ask that of anyone. And so, he couldn’t ask that of Grogu and his father. He  _ wouldn’t _ ask that. He wanted the new Order to have space for those relationships to  _ flourish _ . 

Admittedly, however, he hadn’t imagined enigmatic Mandalorian warriors numbering among his students’ family members.

_ Nope. Hadn’t considered that one. _

It wasn’t an issue per se, just...a complication.

He knew little of the man’s culture besides what everyone knew: they were ruthless nomadic warriors that had spread out across the Galaxy, they often worked as bounty hunters, they had an intense dedication to their culture, and their armor was very, very important to them. 

And, according to one concerning reference in a text he’d found, they  _ hated _ Jedi.

Just a small complication.

Truthfully though, the Mandalorian didn’t  _ seem _ to hate him. He was clearly distant, but they had just met, so it was to be expected. Besides, the man’s interactions with Grogu showed that he had an intense kindness within him. No rumors or books had spoken about that. 

Luke figured there was a lot he needed to learn. He’d have to ask Leia to send him some texts on the Mandalorians so that he didn’t make a fool of himself. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining  _ why _ he needed the texts though. Leia wasn’t exactly fond of them after what happened to Han.

Luke sighed, for now he’d have to be polite to his new companion and try to learn what he could by simply talking to the other man. Usually this wouldn’t be a problem, but it was just so  _ difficult _ to read the Mandolorian with only his flat tone and subtle body language to go by. He was thankful at least to have some talent in sensing others’ emotions, but it was always easier to sense intense feelings, as he had on the bridge.

He thought back to the moment when the other man had realized he didn’t have to say goodbye to his son. He’d gone so still that for a moment Luke envisioned him to be a statue of steel. As the seconds dragged on, he’d started to wonder if he’d somehow been wrong about the familial relationship between the two. 

But then the Mandalorian had broken whatever spell of shock had fallen over him, turning sharply to look back down at the child in his arms.

As if he couldn’t believe that he was still there. 

Luke had seen those giant, dark eyes reflecting off the visor, so full of trust, and when the Mandalorian spoke, it was to his child, not to the Jedi.

“ _ Yes. _ ” 

The word had torn out of the other’s throat with such conviction that he could have said anything in that voice and Luke would believe it to be gospel. It wasn’t really an answer to any question that the Jedi had asked, but he understood what it meant. 

His head had swum with the feeling of it all, something clenching in the pit of his stomach that felt almost like fear...but, no, it was too warm and bright. He hadn’t known if the emotion was his own or if it was something emanating off of the two, but it settled between his ribs, curling up and finding a space there. 

It felt like a memory of hope and a potential for loss all at once and Luke had the sudden desire to never let it go. 

For a moment he had thought of his own father, of family lost and found and lost again. 

He hoped that these two would never have to experience that sort of loss. He was glad that the Mandalorian had recovered his son, that he was still with him. Moments of justice such as this deserved to be cherished.

The man had said very little on the elevator down to the hangar, only explaining the vaguest of terms what had transpired to bring the two to the Imperial cruiser.

“He was taken from me,” there was an edge to his voice reminding Luke that the weapons he carried probably weren’t for show, “And I got him back.”

When Luke had naturally asked for his name, the answer he received was similarly sparse. 

“I…” the Mandalorian had hesitated, a hint of anxiety souring the air around him, “Most people avoid using a name, or simply call me Mandalorian.” Luke hadn’t really understood, but he’d been thinking of the man as “The Mandalorian” already; it wouldn’t be difficult to continue if that was what he wished. 

Perhaps seeing Luke’s confusion he’d added as a concession, “Or...Mando.” 

The Jedi could almost  _ feel _ him wrinkling his nose under the beskar as he said that one and Luke couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he’d rushed to explain, not wanting to offend, but not quite able to stifle his amusement, “It’s just...that one  _ really _ doesn’t fit. Isn’t it a bit on the nose?”

A small huff of a laugh had found its way through the other’s voice modulator like the sound didn’t quite know how to exist in the world.

_ I want to hear more of it _ , Luke had thought irrationally, not able to help the smile splitting his face as he glanced at the man walking beside him.

The Mandalorian had grown quieter after that, but some of the tension he’d been carrying was gone. Luke attempted to engage him in small talk as they boarded the X-wing, but he mostly got absent hums in response. 

The man was likely exhausted; Luke guessed that rescuing Grogu hadn’t been as simple as just “getting him back.” The many, many bodies they had to step around to get to the X-wing were a testament to that, as was the fried darktrooper, the only one that Luke hadn’t needed to take out. Truly impressive for someone without a lightsaber. He wondered how the squad had taken it out.

Luke also noted that the bright armor was scuffed in a few places, not scratched or dented, but showing signs of battle in smudges of grease and flecks of dried blood. He hoped it was someone else’s.

He’d watched subtly as the man moved. His movements were confident, but he’d winced as he climbed into the cockpit, using one arm to hoist himself inside while the other held the Child. 

Luke’s offer of bacta spray was waved off. Best to leave the man to rest in the back seat then.

He was cradling the Child in his lap now, the kid fast asleep in his father’s arms. It was clear that Grogu was drained as well; Luke would have to ask him what happened on Gideon’s ship once they were somewhere safe. Once they were home on Pelaphim V. 

_ Home _ ? A temporary one for the pair at the very least. He wondered what home the Mandalorian was leaving behind, or if he even had one. Coruscant had been Grogu’s home, as Luke had seen briefly in his memories, but the Order there was long gone, he thought sadly. 

What must it have been like to grow up surrounded by other Jedi? To have classes and peers and a community? To have people to go to when he had questions?

He hoped that the Child would enjoy having a sliver of that again. Not the same thing – one man couldn’t rebuild all of that, not even in an entire lifetime – but at the very least the beginnings of something  _ new _ . He had to try.

So Pelaphim V it was. 

Unfortunately, the moon was practically on the other side of the Galaxy.  _ Better get started _ , he thought with a sigh.

“Hold on,” Luke said, glancing towards a small mirror angled towards the rear seat, but the damn thing was scuffed up. Great, he needed more communication barriers. 

R2 beeped an affirmative from his docking station, but his passenger responded only with the creak of leather gloves as he steadied himself for take-off, the ship lifting off the ground.

The engine roared as Luke pushed on the throttle, the whole bulk seeming to vibrate with the same excitement he felt racing through his veins. He had done this a thousand times, but as the ship picked up speed, faster and faster, hangar lights flashing overhead… 

_ I’ll never get tired of this _ , he thought, as they slipped through the luminescent atmosphere shield and into the dark expanse of open space.

The adrenaline blended into something calm then, a feeling of  _ rightness _ settling into his bones as his hands guided the craft with practiced ease.

The flight to the forest moon would be long in the cramped cockpit – they’d undoubtedly have to stop to rest and refuel over the week-long journey – but maybe right now he’d be able to get a little rest of his own-

R2 trilled in alarm, startling the Jedi as a light flashed. A ship was approaching. 

Ok. Never mind! No rest for the man that had flown practically seventy-two straight hours to follow a little green goblin’s signature in the Force. That was fine!

Luke felt anxiety spike in the cabin, most of it coming from the man behind him.

“Who-” the Mandalorian started to ask but was interrupted as someone hailed them. Well, that was a good sign at least. An enemy usually wouldn’t bother  _ calling _ . 

No ID though. Odd.

His mind raced. Had one of the Mandalorian’s companions forgotten something? Had another enemy lurked in the shadows that Luke hadn’t sensed, using this as some ploy? 

Before he could voice his concerns, the dark shape of a small ship pulled alongside them. Looking out the window, Luke’s stomach dropped.

“ _ Fett _ ,” he cursed. He’d recognize that damn ship anywhere, the silhouette of Slave 1 outlined against the black. The man was alive? He hoped that the Mandalorian was willing to fight one of his own to defend the Child. 

Luke panicked, manically flicking toggles, pressing buttons, trying to figure out how fast he could make the jump to hyperspace  _ without _ crashing them into a star, when a hand gripped his shoulder, stilling him.

“Wait,” came his passenger’s voice, low and urgent and surprisingly close. Luke froze, the pressure of the gloved hand distracting, almost adding to his anxiety as the pressure seemed to seep into his bones. Luke shivered slightly, taking a steadying breath. He just needed to distance himself from his tumultuous emotions before he responded.

“That’s Boba Fett!” He snapped. 

...So much for distance. 

He twisted his head towards the other, frustrated with the lack of visibility in the cramped space and- oh that was a mistake. His eyes widened a little bit deliriously as his vision filled with the man’s helmet, the black depths of his visor and a soft whisper of breath suddenly far too close. He yanked backwards, and the man’s hand slipped off his shoulder, and –  _ Kriff _ – but something in him missed the touch. What was  _ wrong _ with him?

And the Mandalorian had the gall to look  _ amused _ at Luke’s agitation. It was in the slight tilt of his head, the relaxed body language, even with all the armor on. It was infuriating.

“Yes, it’s Boba Fett. You’ve said so twice now,” the Mandalorian stated and…was he  _ teasing _ ? They were faced with one of the most feared bounty hunters in the Galaxy and he was  _ teasing Luke _ .

His ears burned; oh, sweet Creator was he  _ blushing _ .

“He’s an ally,” the Mandalorian explained patiently, a patience that Luke should really be the one to have as the Jedi scrambled to control his emotions, “Open the channel.”

“Ally?” Luke repeated incredulously, but complied, pushing down his embarrassment as the com crackled to life.

“Flying off with a strange Jedi, are you?” Boba Fett’s voice was amused, but there was an edge to it as he moved to address Luke, “Hello, Skywalker. Thought I saw you fly in.”

Luke could feel his passenger’s eyes boring into the back of his head. Plenty of people had heard about his run in with Fett, but apparently not this one. Then again, it probably shouldn’t surprise him since this man apparently  _ didn’t know who he was _ . And boy was that still confusing.

“What do you want, Fett,” Luke said shortly. 

He wondered how the two knew each other. Were they kin? Were they both bounty hunters running in the same circles? But that didn’t add up, otherwise he was sure that his new companion would have heard of him from Fett.

“I’m glad you and the kid found what you were looking for,” Boba Fett said to the other Mandalorian, ignoring Luke, “I have just one more thing to offer before you go.”

“You’ve done more than enough for us,” came the reply from behind him, genuine thankfulness and respect in the words. Luke made a note to ask him how he became allied with Fett in the first place. He was sure the other had questions of his own about Luke’s history with the bounty hunter.

“I insist,” Fett responded, “I don’t know how far you’re going, but if it’s anything longer than a few hours then you’ll be wanting a bigger ship. Especially if you two plan to be together for a while.”

“After all, the kid isn’t growing up very fast,” Fett continued wryly, ”It’ll be a good investment. I can call in a favor.”

“A ship is a big favor. I can’t ask that of you,” the Mandalorian responded, clearly uncomfortable.

“I do so to honor my father,” Fett explained with unexpected sincerity, “You are similar to him in many ways. I give this gift freely to you and the Child. Besides, I believe that your Jedi here will be able to cover some of the costs.” Fett chuckled mockingly as he addressed Luke, “That shouldn’t be a problem for the hero of the Galaxy, no?” 

Luke’s blush intensified at the title, but the man wasn’t wrong; he had plenty of credits.

“I can’t ask that of-” the Mandalorian started, but Luke held up his hand, cutting in with an apologetic glance back.

“He’s right. I have the funds,” he ran his ungloved hand through his hair with a sigh, “Plus, it’s a long trip. It’ll be good for Grogu to have some room to stretch his legs.” He also wasn’t too keen on his own lack of leg room at the moment, his seat pushed forward as far as it could go. A new ship would benefit everyone. 

Plus, it might be better to have something a bit more discreet, seeing how Fett put the pieces together fairly easily; Red 5 had a number of distinguishing scars from his time fighting the Empire. If the Imperial Remnant learned that Grogu was with Luke, they’d have their eyes out for his ship. If they’d gone through the trouble to kidnap the Child, then he clearly meant something to them. Yet another question for the Mandalorian.

“Good, it’s settled then,” Fett’s response came, “We’ll meet at the Mos Eisley cantina on Tatooine.” 

Oh. Well, it seemed that Luke was going home.

The bounty hunter waited for his apparent brother in arms to give a reluctant, “Alright,” before he ended the transmission. Fett hadn’t even waited for Luke’s confirmation. Nice guy. Maybe he should have stayed in the Great Pit of Carkoon. But, no, that was uncharitable for a man that was showing a surprising amount of empathy for the other Mandalorian and his child. Luke could respect that. He still wouldn’t be forgetting what Fett did to his friend, though.

“Tatooine it is then,” Luke said with a sigh, “It’ll only take about an hour to get there.”

He only got a soft noise in return from the other man. Perhaps now would be a good time to learn about his new companions? 

_ Patience _ , he heard Ben say. It was true, he needed to be patient. Luke had learned much during his training, as a leader throughout the wars, and on his own as he’d traveled the Galaxy. He’d become quite good at reading between the lines and drawing conclusions from evidence. 

The Mandalorian had had his child abducted from him and had no doubt worked tirelessly to track him down over the past few days since Luke felt Grogu through the Force. Despite how well the man had masked his fatigue and apparent injuries, Luke knew that the best thing for them all was to rest. They would speak and fill in the gaps, but not now, Luke thought as he signaled for R2 to plot the course to his home world. 

With a soft breath, Luke eased the ship’s hyperdrive on. Everything fell away as they made the jump to hyperspace, until it was just the three of them in the tunneling abyss. 

He tried to let his own anxieties and exhaustion fall away into its hypnotic depths. With that, Luke’s eyes closed, slipping into a light meditation. His world became the blackness behind his closed eyelids, the  _ hush _ of the ship as it slipped through the void, and the soft breathing of father and son behind him. 

His heart began to ache, as he thought of their destination. He would no doubt have to relive his grief soon, but for now he tried to focus on his immediate surroundings. 

In the darkness, he heard the Mandalorian gently comfort his child as Grogu fussed. Reaching out with his mind, Luke felt their signatures in the Force and imagined them to be those same two stars, tethered to one another by an inextricable gravity. 

His breathing slowed, and for a while he found peace.

O

O

At the Mandalorian’s direction, Luke landed at a specific hangar in Mos Eisley. Popping open the cabin’s hatch, the Jedi swung over the side before climbing down to the ground.

His worn boots hit the familiar dirt and he breathed in the familiar dust. He was glad that he was able to leave this world all those years ago, but he did miss it sometimes. Others might not understand his nostalgia, complaining about the sand and the heat and the crude inhabitants and the  _ sand _ … 

But this place had been home for a very long time. 

It would always hold a special place in his heart and in his memories, good and bad: growing up with his aunt and uncle, meeting R2 and Threepio, Ben and Han and Chewie, losing his family, and finally leaving to save family he didn’t even know he  _ had _ .

These two were some of the lucky ones, he thought, as the Mandalorian dropped to the ground, surprisingly light given his armor. He wondered how much it weighed. Grogu was carried in a sling, tucked underneath the cloak strapped to the Mandalorian’s back. They were certainly quite a pair...

At first glance the Mandalorian was an intimidating warrior: tall and broad, covered head to toe in beskar, an array of weapons strapped to his body, but then...a tiny green head peaked out from behind the cloak, the Child’s small claws grasping the cloth and shoveling a bit into his mouth to chew on. The Mandalorian surely felt the tug, but he didn’t reprimand Grogu, didn’t even glance down as he idly stroked one of those big goofy ears with a gloved hand, adjusting the sling with the other.

It was very, very cute.

“Mando!” Came an excited shout, jerking him out of his idle thoughts. The pair turned to see a woman rushing over to them, trailed by a swarm of nervous looking pit droids. Next to him, Grogu squealed, now soggy cape dropping from his tiny mouth as the woman rushed towards them, hair wild and tool belt swinging.

“Peli,” the Mandalorian’s voice was surprisingly warm as she came up beside them, much warmer than when he spoke to Fett. A friend, then?

To Luke’s surprise, he reached to take Grogu out of his sling without the woman even asking, handing his son over to the quirky mechanic. Luke watched on in amusement as her eyes lit up with joy as she held the Child, cooing and babbling right back at Grogu who giggled, tugging on her curls with tiny, clawed hands.

“Oh, I just love this little bugger,” she hardly took her eyes off of the Child as she tipped her head towards Luke, “Who’s your friend? And, more importantly, where’s your ship?”

Well, apparently, he was less important than a ship. Wait, the Mandalorian had his own ship? Surely he would have offered to take it if it had been on the cruiser.

“This is Luke, he’s Grogu’s new teacher,” the Mandalorian explained before he could ask.

“Oh, how exciting! Someone’s gonna grow up big and smart,” the Peli cooed at the baby, “Yes, he is! Oh yes he is!” Her eyes sharpened though as she looked back to the Mandalorian, brows furrowing.

“But the Razor Crest, what happened to her?”

The Mandalorian turned his head, glancing towards Luke’s ship, perhaps imagining his own parked in the hangar, twin suns beating down on the hot metal. He sighed before turning back.

“Destroyed,” he said regretfully.

“Oh,” Peli’s face fell, “Well, I’m sorry about that.” When the Mandalorian didn’t respond she continued, filling the tense silence, “Well the new one looks, uh…” She paused, face screwing up against the glare of the suns on the X-wing’s hull.

“Small,” she finished. Luke tried not to bristle at the comment, but she was right, at least for two men and a child.

“That’s why we’re here,” the Mandalorian explained, “We need to find another one.”

“And make arrangements for mine to get picked up,” Luke cut in. The mechanic nodded.

“That can be arranged. This new ship though, what kind are you thinking?” she asked, turning back to the Mandalorian.

“Something the size of the Razor Crest, maybe a bit bigger?”

Peli hummed in response, lost in thought for a moment before snapping her fingers.

“I’ve got just the thing! Head down to the other side of Mos Eisley, to the scrap yards. The first one is run by a Twi’lek named Tith Bril. Tell him that you want to see that gunship he picked up recently, and tell him I sent you.”

“A scrap yard?” the Mandalorian questioned, tone doubtful.

“Hey, you can find some good stuff in scrap yards,” Luke spoke up. It was true; he was plenty familiar with finding the treasure among the trash here on Tatooine. His own speeder had been built from scraps, he thought fondly, remembering days spent racing friends across the scorching sands when things were slow on the farm.

“Well, well!” Peli grinned, looking at him fully now, “Your teacher knows what he’s talking about, kid!” She spoke down to the Child in her arms and he babbled back, clearly not understanding but excited that she was excited. Peli laughed.

“See, he knows it too! Besides, the Razor Crest  _ kind of _ looked like she belonged in a scrap yard towards the end there. There’s only so much scrap metal and a welding iron will do. Just saying.”

“Alright, alright,” the Mandalorian yielded, “We’ll check with the Twi’lek. But first, there’s someone we need to meet in the cantina.” He turned, nodding to Luke, “We’ll head over. Meet us there when you figure out what you’re going to do with your ship.”

“Alright,” Luke responded. Peli whined as the Mandalorian reached out to take the baby from her, but handed him over, nonetheless.

“Wanted a few more minutes with the little rascal,” she muttered begrudgingly. 

“You’ll see him again before we leave,” the Mandalorian placated her with fond amusement, “I need a good mechanic to check over our new ship before we fly out.”

“A good mechanic!” Peli gasped in mock offense, “Excuse you, but I’m the  _ best _ !” 

“The best,” the man repeated sincerely. Peli smiled softly at him, reaching out to pat Grogu one last time on his little head.

“And don’t you forget it,” she said before turning to Luke, “Alright, what do you want to do with your ship?”

Luke was distracted as he made arrangements for the New Republic to pick up and store the X-wing. He rattled off the information Peli needed, but his eyes were on the Mandalorian as he tenderly placed his son back into the sling, pausing briefly to make sure that it was secure. 

He began to leave but stopped just before he disappeared behind the ship. Luke watched as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a silver ball. Grogu’s laugh of delight could be heard even from a distance as his father placed it into the boy’s outstretched hands. The ball was immediately shoveled towards the Child’s tiny mouth and a slobbery fate.

There was definitely a pattern here, Luke thought with amusement.

The man’s shoulders shook softly with laughter before he looked up, catching the Jedi staring at him.

Luke thought about averting his eyes quickly but knew he wouldn’t be fooling anybody. Instead, he tried to play it off as intentional, nodding in acknowledgment, but the way the man stared blankly for a moment made Luke’s cheeks heat. 

No, his blush was just from the heat of the suns. 

Yes, definitely the suns.

But finally, the Mandalorian gave a hesitant nod in turn, sunlight flashing off of the beskar. He then turned, heading for the hangar’s exit, stepping gingerly around the pit droids that skittered out of his way. Luke’s eyes followed him as he disappeared out onto the dusty street.

The rest of the conversation with Peli was much harder to focus on than it really had any right to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally got this chapter out, and a longer one than I expected. I hope you enjoy! I took a lot of time to turn the first chapter, which was really just a drabble, into a plot outline. Look forward to regular updates.  
> Thank you for all your comments on the last chapter! I love hearing from you all!!


	3. The Cantina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grimy cantina is a nice place to get to know someone, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments, and sorry about the wait! My semester is ending and I just started a new job, so I've been a bit busy. The next chapter is written, however. Just needs to be edited! I hope you enjoy this one!

The streets of Mos Eisley were sparse as Luke and R2 made their way towards the cantina. Vendors still hawked their wares to the few customers who dared step out under the midday suns, but most inhabitants had fled indoors during the hottest part of the day. Luke’s feet beat a steady rhythm against the dirt, packed hard from decades of wear.

It was strange to be back here after all these years. He’d returned to bury his aunt and uncle, and then once more to save Han, but after that he’d just been so busy with the Rebellion and then his own travels and…

Part of him hadn’t wanted to come back. And yet another part would never stop missing his home. 

Sure, he was glad to have gotten off of this rock, but he still felt a dull ache in his chest whenever he stood on distant planets, seeing echoes of Tatooine. One time he’d landed on a world, thousands of lightyears away, only to look up and see twin suns. They had been too small, the wrong colors, but he’d been transported back to his childhood all the same. The trees and rich soil around him had suddenly seemed so  _ wrong _ , and all he wanted to do was run barefoot through the sands...

“Move, asshole!” Someone yelled in Huttese, making Luke jump back. The Jedi narrowly dodged a ronto as it lumbered by, hauling a load of scrap. Beside him R2 let out what could only be an expletive of his own as the scrapper leading the beast cast them a wicked glare.

Home sweet home.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his aunt and uncle would think of him if they could see him now. Would they have even recognized him, if they’d passed him on the street?

The Jedi had drawn his hood as they’d exited Peli’s hangar, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He pulled it a bit tighter around himself now, drawing comfort from its familiar weight. It was a bit easier now than it had been just after the war, and easier still in the Outer Rim where plenty of people didn’t give two karks about the Republic.

However, he preferred to err on the side of caution. He still wasn’t sure how much danger the Child might be in, whether or not the Empire was still after him. It might be best not to have his location tied to Luke’s. 

Besides, with his face hidden, he blended in easily; he was far from the only person in Mos Eisley to hide their identity.

However, even the comfort of his cloak didn’t stop the knot of anxiety growing in his stomach as they walked. The calm he’d felt in hyperspace felt fleeting, as if it had burned away in the atmosphere as they made their descent. Usually, it was easier for him to regulate his mood, but now he felt strangely raw, off kilter and weary. It had been a long few days. 

He’d been halfway to Altus Prime, chasing a lead on a Jedi text when he’d felt the Child’s call. He’d scared the life out of R2, frantically dropping out of hyperspace, calling for the droid to change course. Leia would have yelled at him for being so impulsive. 

He didn’t want to think about what she was going to say when he tried to explain all of this to her. 

“Do you even have a plan, Luke?” She’d say with that damned expression that made Luke feel like a nineteen-year-old country boy all over again.

He’d gotten used to floating around the Galaxy these past few years, focusing on his own education. He’d been  _ planning _ to take students eventually, even start a school and rebuild the Order as his Masters had hoped. 

But that was eventually. 

This was  _ now _ . The Mandalorian and the Child were waiting in the cantina for him  _ now _ . He had a student  _ now _ .

And then there was the current mess with Fett. Creators, what would Leia say about  _ that _ . Luke only hoped that their meeting would be brief...and that the man wasn’t secretly plotting to get his revenge.

Luke  _ swore _ that he hadn’t been the one to push him into the Sarlacc Pit.

...Probably. 

Things  _ had _ gotten a bit hectic.

He turned a corner, cantina finally coming into view. His bare palm was sweaty where it hung by his side, but at least his prosthetic didn’t perspire inside of his glove. Small blessings.

“You should probably wait here, buddy,” he said to R2, gesturing to a spot in the shade beside the entrance. He didn’t want the droid to draw the ire of the bartender as Threepio had. The astromech warbled his annoyance but rolled off to the side as Luke pushed open the door.

A bell tinkled overhead as he stepped into the dim space, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. Just another weary traveler among many...or few, rather, Luke thought, noting how empty the space was.

It was different than he’d remembered; most of the booths sat empty and the space was oddly quiet without the band. Most noticeably, however, was the droid bartender. Perhaps he hadn’t needed to make R2 wait outside after all. 

Some things hadn’t changed though, the dark space musty with the smell of dust, spilled drinks, and sweaty patrons.

_ Ah, sweet Tatooine _ , he thought as he stepped over some broken glass.

Glancing around, Luke spotted the Mandalorian easily. The armor was certainly...distinct. Luke might be able to hide behind his cloak, but there would be no stopping rumors about this man’s location.

He was relieved to see that he was alone – aside from his son of course – sitting in a far corner booth with a clear view of the entire room. Luke waved slightly as he approached and the Mandalorian nodded in turn. The sharp T of his visor tracking him would have been intimidating were it not for the gloved hand spoon feeding the tiny child in front of him. 

Luke smiled, lowering his hood as he slid into the seat opposite the two, careful to avoid what looked like a suspicious stain on the leather. 

Maybe this was why they kept the lights low.

Grogu cooed at him from where he sat on the table, attention momentarily drawn away from his bowl of...well, Luke didn’t know what it was, but it was moving.

“What’s for lunch?” he asked half-jokingly. He was legitimately starving, not having eaten more than ration bars since he heard the Child’s call.

“I didn’t think to order you something,” the Mandalorian offered awkwardly. “You’re welcome to share with the little one, though...”

Grogu babbled at Luke, ignoring his father’s spoon as he dove a bare hand into the bowl. A second later he had a terrified amphibian in his fist, shaking the poor thing in delight.

“...If you happen to like Klatooine paddy frogs. Grogu, don’t play with your food,” the man scolded gently, placing the creature back in the bowl with a slosh.

“As delicious as that sounds…” Luke trailed off, watching in morbid fascination as the Child happily slurped up one of the...frogs, “I think I’ll get something else. Are you not having anything?” 

“No, I’ll eat later.”

Luke shrugged. “Alright. Do you know what’s taking him?” he asked, tipping his head towards the door.

“That eager to see him?”

Luke snorted. “Eager to get it over with.” 

The Mandalorian cocked his head to the side, and...Luke knew where this was going.

“What’s your deal with Fett?”

The Jedi sighed, slumping down in his seat. “We had a bad run in, in the past,” he said slowly. 

“A bad run in.”

“He worked for the Empire.”

“And you were with the Rebellion?” the Mandalorian guessed. 

“Yeah,” Luke said slowly. “I was with the Rebellion.” That was the understatement of the century, but...

The Mandalorian seemed to accept the simple explanation. Good enough for a man of few words himself.

“Is he going to try to kill you?” A man of few words and  _ blunt _ .

“I don’t think so?”

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, his metallic stare...ok he took it back. The man could definitely be intimidating.

Luke felt a headache coming on as he tried to think how to explain that particular story but–

His stomach saved him, growling loudly in the silence between them. He flushed a bit with an awkward smile. It was either good timing or bad timing, but he would take the distraction, nonetheless.

“Right, food! Be right back!” Luke replied, a little too loudly, causing a human at the bar to glance his way. He made a hasty exit without waiting for the other’s response. 

_ Creator _ , he’d gotten rusty at the socializing thing. Well, no, he’d always bumbled his way around conversations at times. 

Luke liked to think of it as a  _ lovable _ bumbling, but...the Mandalorian probably thought he was a mess. What was he  _ doing _ ?

He sighed as he made his way over to the bar. One step at a time. Now it was time for food.

He mulled over the menu a bit before he decided on a dish of spicy noodles that Aunt Beru used to make – no living things for him, thank you very much – and spontaneously asked for not one but two iced teas. 

Luke tapped his foot as he waited. He wanted his first and only student’s dad to like him and...who didn’t like ice-cold drink on a hot day? And  _ every _ day on Tatooine was a hot one.

The bell above the door jingled as someone new entered the bar, and...no, it was just a Rodian. The knot in his stomach eased a little bit. He’d hoped to have at least a moment of respite. Maybe he would have it yet.

“Order up!” came the call from the back kitchen, and a few moments later the droid appeared, mechanically placing Luke’s tray onto the counter, the nostalgic smell of spices wafting into the air.

Scooping up the tray, Luke headed back for the booth.

“Here,” he said, sliding back into his seat, “I thought we could both use something to cool off.” He gently pushed one of the drinks across the table. 

The Mandalorian looked down at the glass. 

A second passed, and then another. The Child leaned over to look at the new dish and his father patiently redirected his attention back to his own upsettingly mobile food.

He still didn’t move to drink. Or speak. 

Luke was confused.

“Thank you...” the man said finally. Luke didn’t  _ think _ that he sounded particularly thankful. In fact, he sounded a bit like he was chewing on sand. Was iced tea really that unpleasant?

“...But I don’t eat in public,” the Mandalorian finished.

Luke’s brow furrowed in confusion, mouth opening to ask the obvious  _ why _ , but the Mandalorian beat him to it.

“I don’t-” He started before catching himself, tripping over the words a bit, “I’m not supposed to remove my helmet in front of others.”

Oh.

… _ Oh _ . That made the past two or so hours make more sense; he’d been confused by the man’s choice to stay helmeted in the cramped space of the X-wing. Wait, no, it still didn’t make  _ sense _ , but he didn’t have to understand it to respect what was probably a cultural practice? 

He could still be curious though.

“Is this like your name?” Luke asked plainly. Better to ask stupid questions than to make stupid assumptions. He had a feeling they’d both be asking a lot of stupid questions in the coming days.

“Sort of.” He didn’t seem offended, which Luke appreciated. “The name part was more of a custom, but this is a  _ rule _ . Both are considered very...personal.”

“Alright,” Luke said with an easy shrug. “Thank you for telling me. I must admit I’m a bit ignorant about Mandalorians as a whole.” He’d grown up in such a backwater area that he hadn’t had many life experiences prior to leaving Tatooine. Maybe he should’ve spent more time reading and less time shooting womp rats.

As far as the past ten years went...well, he knew that the Mandalorians had been subject to their own Purge. The fact that Luke had only ever met one...said a lot. The Jedi and Mandalorians had that in common.

“There isn’t much of a whole to speak of,” the other admitted, voice as sober as Luke’s thoughts were. “The few other Mandalorians I’ve met don’t seem to follow the rules that I do. I grew up in a very...traditional setting.”

Luke wondered what that meant, and how  _ he’d _ survived the Purge, but that would be a stupid question for another time.

The man looked down at his still untouched drink, concealed gaze somehow still maudlin. Luke tried to parse exactly what the other was feeling, but the emotions that had been strong and clear when they’d met were muddied.

The ice was beginning to melt in the Mandalorian’s glass, leaving a thin, watery film on the surface of the tea. Luke watched as gloved hands wrapped around the cold glass as if considering…

But no. Condensation beaded on the dark leather as his fingers slipped away.

“I suppose if I’d grown up in the Order then it would have been similar for me,” the Jedi offered, eyes flickering to where he held his own glass. He turned it idly in his hand, disturbing the sediment of poorly filtered tea leaves resting at the bottom. The particles swirled, clouding the amber liquid.

“You didn’t?”

“Oh, no. I grew up  _ here _ actually. On a farm, just a ways to the south.” 

A wry smile split Luke’s face at the Mandalorian’s shock. “My aunt and uncle were moisture farmers. Then my Jedi training started on a smuggler’s ship, then continued later in a swamp. I was also nineteen years old. It was far from  _ traditional _ .”

“I expected…” the Mandalorian trailed off, shaking his head slightly before turning to the Child eating on the table between them.

“What will his training be like?” the father asked softly.

_ Do you even have a plan, Luke? _

“I don’t know yet,” he answered honestly. “Ultimately it will be driven by what he needs.”

“What he needs?”

Luke nodded. “There is no one way to learn to wield the Force, or to become a Jedi, if that’s what he wants.”  _ Not anymore _ . The thought rested heavily in his mind, spreading until its weight settled across his shoulders, familiar as the weight of the cloak.

“You aren’t training him to become a Jedi?” the Mandalorian asked with surprise, his sharp gaze drawing back Luke’s attention. As much as Luke wished to have other Jedi around him, it wasn’t that simple.

“I don’t think that’s a decision he can make at his age,” he explained. “For now, we’ll focus on making sure he can wield the Force safely.” 

The Mandalorian appeared to think for a moment before giving a nod of agreement, a bit of tension easing from his frame. Had he been expecting Luke to just whisk the Child away, raising him as a Jedi?

Then again, from his research that wasn’t exactly far from the truth, at least when it came to the old Order. Not the baby snatchers the Empire had claimed them to be, but...

“ _ His _ training won’t be traditional either,” Luke continued, “but I suppose it will start with aptitude tests to see where he’s at and then we’ll go from there. At his own pace. Can you tell me what his abilities are like?”

The Mandalorian paused for a moment, and when he spoke it was with such awe that Luke found himself entranced.

“I have seen him move objects,” he began softly, “move creatures a hundred times his size. He can heal wounds that no one should be able to survive…”

Luke…Luke hadn’t been expecting  _ that.  _ He had felt the Child’s strong connection to the Force, and he knew that he’d been trained, but Grogu apparently had far more control over the Force than he’d anticipated. He was still so early in his development. Would he grow to be as powerful as Yoda? 

He suddenly felt lighter, younger than he had in years as his mind raced. If the Child  _ did _ become a Jedi, he could potentially become the bedrock of the Order, just as Yoda had. There was  _ hope _ . Hope that even if Luke was gone then someone could carry on the legacy he was trying to uphold. Hope that–

“And he–” The wavering words startled the Jedi out of his revery as a sudden spike of fear laced the air, “–he choked someone once, without even touching them.” The words were whispered like a confession.

“Oh,” Luke said dumbly, excitement curdling in his chest.

He looked across the table at the Child oblivious to the turmoil around him, at the father waiting anxiously for his response. There was tension carved into him, as if his body were mimicking the hard edges of the armor he wore. He looked exhausted.

“He thought I was being hurt,” the Mandalorian added, voice startlingly small.

Luke nodded slowly. “There is darkness inside him,” he said finally, looking at the little boy in front of them. He seemed so innocent, but Luke knew what he’d witnessed thirty years ago. Even an infant can’t see that much and live that long without being changed by it in some fundamental way. Luke marveled at the nature of his species, so vulnerable for so long. 

“After all he’s been through it’s...more than understandable,” he finished as gently as he could. He wasn’t sure how much Grogu’s father knew, but the flashes Luke had seen had been…brutal.

Silence hung between them for a long, sobering moment before the Mandalorian spoke.

“Did I do this?” 

It was said so quietly that Luke wasn’t sure he was meant to hear them, the icy grip of a familiar fear spreading through his chest. The emotion wasn’t his own, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he was spinning out of control with it, wishing – not for the first time – that this particular Force skill wasn’t something he was so attuned to.

“What?”

“His attachment to me it’s–it’s dangerous for him.” It was halfway between a statement and a question, like the words were waiting for someone to take a hold of them and shape them into something better and brighter and warm.

Luke caught a tremor in the other man’s hand where it rested on the table. He drew it away quickly, slipping underneath the table as his emotions seemed to slip away as well, stuffed away somewhere deep and dark, becoming a dull ache.

He wasn’t aware that Luke could feel his emotions. He was trying to hide them from no one but himself. 

Between them Grogu let out a confused whimper. Maybe he too was blessed or cursed with the ability to feel others’ emotions. He was blinking up at his father, concern in the shine of his dark eyes. The Mandalorian shushed him, trying in vain to redirect him back to his food, before pulling the boy into his lap, rocking him gently.

“Why would you think that?” Luke asked. He was confused too. The sentiment was...unsettlingly familiar.

“We met one Jedi before you.” 

_ What? _

“She was supposed to train him, but she ultimately turned us away. Because of me. Because of our bond.”

Luke was still reeling.  _ There was another Jedi _ . He’d searched for them, hoping that others had survived the Purge like Yoda, like Ben. 

But he’d never found them. Even as he scoured the Galaxy all he ever found were whispers and ghosts of ages long gone. How had this man succeeded where even Luke hadn’t?

His shock must have been apparent, because the Mandalorian continued, offering what he could. “Her name was Ashoka Tano, she was Togruta, maybe forty years old.” 

Luke couldn’t help but feel disappointed; he’d never heard the name before. The Empire and the Sith had destroyed so many Old Republic documents. The result was that most of the concrete evidence Luke found was far older than that, relics that slipped through the cracks of time. Information on the Old Republic was left mostly in the form of memories of those who’d lived during the era. Luke had spoken to many a person who remembered the Jedi (they were few and far between, but they  _ could _ be found), but they rarely had knowledge of any depth, just passing accounts. Rarely were names, people remembered.

“She was lucky to survive the Purge,” Luke marveled aloud. He hoped he could meet her one day. He wondered if she knew he existed. Had she deliberately avoided him? 

His heart ached with the thought that all these years he could have had an ally, someone to ask questions to, someone who  _ understood  _ him. Ashoka...he would have to start looking for that name. For now, however...

“You said she refused to train him?” he asked, giving the Mandalorian his full attention. This was still what he was here for. The Child. He wasn’t about to go running off to find the other Jedi when he’d made this commitment. As much as part of him wanted to.

“She said that his attachment to me would make training him dangerous,” the Mandalorian explained, a slight edge to his voice. “She sent us to Typhon so that he might find another teacher. To choose his own path.”

“And he reached out to me,” Luke finished.

“You  _ asked _ me to come with you. Why?” Frustrated confusion bled into the other’s voice.

Luke glanced down at his hands, gathering his thoughts.

“Before I answer that I need…do you know what the Force is?”

“The Jedi said that it was an energy force,” the Mandalorian said hesitantly, “created by all living things. That Jedi can wield it through intense training and focus.”

Luke hummed, nodding his head. “That’s a good way of putting it. As far as the focus goes…A Jedi’s thoughts, and especially our emotions, shape our connection to the Force.”

Spontaneously, he reached into his pocket, sifting around until he found a spherical Avgarian coin. He held it outstretched between them on the flat of his palm. 

“When Jedi are focused, when we’re emotionally stable our connection to the Force is stable. We are in control.” He kept his palm level, moving his hand left and right, up and down. The coin stayed in its place, moving along with him. The Mandalorian watched intently and even Grogu was entranced, his earlier agitation forgotten as he followed the movement with curious eyes.

He also just seemed to have an affiliation for shiny spheres.

“When we let our emotions overwhelm us – fear, anger, joy, love – our connection can become unstable.” He tilted his hand slightly from side to side, the coin rolling back and forth.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing, I think. Some Force wielders use this to gain strength or inspiration, but it becomes a danger when you begin to rely on it. Some become drunk on the power, hungering for more. Your connection to the Force becomes...twisted, then. Corrupted in a way. Once you let that consume you…” His hand tipped sharply, the coin clattering to the table.

“...It can tear even the strongest of us apart.”

Grogu giggled, hands diving for the coin as it rolled past their side of the table. Luke couldn’t help but smile softly at that, nudging the coin with his mind so that it rolled in a wide arc, turning back towards the eager Child who caught it in waiting hands.

“Jedi were raised within the Order for this reason. Even if an untrained adult can feel the Force, they likely won’t be able to control it – at least not safely. It’s best taught from a young age, as Grogu was. It’s remarkable that he’s managed to retain this skill, which is the reason he’s still able to wield the Force.” 

Luke watched in amusement as the Mandalorian carefully took the coin away, distracting him with his  _ preferred _ shiny sphere. Maybe Luke shouldn’t have given the kid something so small…

“If he has this control, then why did the Jedi say our bond was dangerous?” the Mandalorian asked, drawing Luke’s attention back.

Yes, that was the part that Luke had... _ conflicting _ feelings on. His eyes dropped to the table, and then to his gloved hand.

“One way the Jedi made sure that they wouldn’t lose control was by practicing detachment,” he explained, left hand tugging at the edges of the leather, “Detachment from emotions, from ambition, and from relationships. 

“Relationships can be a cause of great emotional turmoil, and for that reason they were forbidden. Children were even forbidden from seeing their families.” 

The Mandalorian tensed at that. Luke didn’t blame him one bit.

“Even a full-fledged Jedi could still...fall, given the right circumstances. Heartbreak, loss, betrayal.” He tugged his glove on a little tighter.

“So all this to say you agree with her?” The Mandalorian grit out.

“Nope!”

The Mandalorian looked like he wanted to strangle him.

“Our connections to others  _ can _ destroy a Jedi,” Luke conceded, “But so can isolation, depression, denying our basic needs.” He often wondered if his father would have fallen if his relationship had been supported. He didn’t exactly know what had happened, but he’d spoken to his father’s spirit a few times by now. He’d revealed little…but enough.

“I told you I started my training when I was nineteen?”

The Mandalorian nodded.

“I had just lost the people who’d raised me, I had never left Tatooine, I had no idea what I was doing, and we were in the middle of a war.” Luke counted each on his hand.

“I have lost even more people since, I have made friends, I have found family, I have had my strength of will tested on countless times.

“There were times when my emotions and relationships nearly led me astray, but it was the people I love and my bonds to them that helped me thrive. I would never give up the people I love or ask another to do the same,” he said fervently. 

He’d had many years to think on the traditions of the Jedi and form his own opinions, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone like this in so long. Now that he was it–it  _ poured _ out of him. It was messy and slightly unhinged and  _ Creator _ had he needed this. His masters would be rolling in their graves if they had had any, but Luke knew that they would have told him to take the Child and leave and they would have been  _ wrong _ . He might not be well versed in all types of relationships, certainly not romantic, but he knew  _ family _ and how important it was.

“Your son  _ needs _ you. He has lost so much, been alone for so long. Taking away what he has with you? That would do far more harm than good. And you  _ are _ doing  _ good _ with him. Do you know how incredible it is that he trusts you, after what he’s been through?” 

Silence rippled in the wake of his outburst and Luke realized with a start that he’d been leaning forward as he spoke. He was suddenly too close, too exposed, and all he could think about was his own father and what they could have had.

He leaned back jerkily, feeling the other’s gaze on his skin like a physical touch. It was irrational but he felt like  _ he _ was the one whose mind was laid bare, an open book for the other to read as silence stretched between them.

“You call him my son,” the Mandalorian said, turning the conversation unexpectedly.

“Am I wrong?” Luke asked, suddenly unsure.

“I had never called him that before, but…” the Mandalorian trailed off looking down at the Child. The kid was on the verge of sleep, unbothered by Luke’s chaos in the way only a truly exhausted child could be. 

Vambraced arms held him a little tighter.

“No,” the Mandalorian said, voice softer and more open than Luke had ever heard it, “You weren’t wrong.”

Something warm tickled across Luke’s chest, warming his bones. It was love, he realized. The Mandalorian’s love for his son. Fear and doubt were still there, not something easily erased by a few words, but it was insignificant in the face of... _ this _ .

Grogu must have felt it too because his eyes blinked open slowly, wide and deep as he turned to gaze up at his father. Then the kid let out the  _ tiniest _ , sweetest yawn before he nuzzled his fuzzy head back into his father’s chest, eyes slipping closed with a contented sigh.  _ Safe, home _ , his heart thrummed into the Force around him.

His father watched him silently for a moment before he spoke. “I was prepared to leave him. I thought that I would have to say goodbye.”

“Thank you,” his voice was both soft and strained. “For allowing me to stay.” He looked at Luke then, visor like the inky blackness of open space, and just as deep. For the first time, Luke wished he could see what lay behind. Not out of curiosity, but just so he could look into the man’s eyes and...he didn’t know what.

“I'm glad you can be here,” Luke settled on instead, giving a gentle bow of his head.

The Mandalorian’s demeanor changed then, his head cocking slightly to the side. “You’re not what I expected.”

Luke laughed slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It’s good.” The Mandalorian’s voice was...warm. Luke’s cheeks were warm. Oh, he was blushing. Again. And just like that he was back to  _ bumbling _ .

What was he supposed to say? Thank you?

“My noodles are cold,” he blurted instead.

That was  _ not _ a thank you. Luke closed his eyes, willing his face to stop burning. 

It wasn’t working. 

Why was he  _ like _ this.

But maybe it wasn’t so bad, because the Mandalorian was  _ laughing _ and even if it was at Luke’s expense it was worth it. Still more of a  _ huff _ of breath from underneath his helmet, but it was...nice. 

Luke bravely cracked open his eyes and looked at the man across from him. His head was down, shaking slightly in amusement, his arms still carefully holding his son. He thought he understood a little better why Grogu was attached to him so much, and why he was attached to Grogu for that matter. He was startlingly empathetic for his age, always there to offer comfort in the small ways he could. The kid was  _ precious _ , terrifying frog eating and all.

“He has much to learn,” Luke said. “Once we get our ship, we can start his training.”

“That is good.” A smile still lingered in the other’s voice.

The three were quiet after that; the Mandalorian sitting with his son, gently rocking him from time to time. Luke finished up his own meal, unbothered by how cold it had gotten when contentment warmed his bones.

Luke imagined that the trio must look strange from a distance, but Mos Eisley was an odd place full of odd people.

It was good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grogu thinks the Mandalorian is the BEST dad for giving him FROGS.  
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> How did I get here? We just don't know.  
> All aboard?


End file.
